The steady rhythm of her feet against the pavement offered Reese a fleeting sense of calm. The early morning air was crisp, its bite bracing against her skin, and the golden light of dawn bathed the quiet neighborhood streets. She inhaled deeply, savoring the faint scent of pine carried on the breeze, and exhaled slowly, willing her restless thoughts to subside.

Her occasional jogging route, when she didn't have the energy for spin class, wound through her neighborhood, familiar landmarks blending into the background. The absence of traffic and noise suited her; the solitude offered a temporary reprieve from the lingering frustration of unresolved conversations. The night with Collin had been comforting and satisfying, but it had done little to silence the nagging thoughts that Christian Grey's presence had stirred.

Her arms pumped in time with her strides, her legs moving with practiced precision, but her mind was anything but steady. The memory of Christian's words replayed in maddening clarity: his certainty, his calm defiance of her boundaries. This isn't over. That declaration clung to her, threading through her thoughts like a melody she couldn't shake.

She pushed herself harder, her breath quickening as her pace increased. The rhythmic pounding of her feet should have drowned out the intrusive thoughts, but Christian lingered. His gaze, his words, his presence—it all pressed against her carefully constructed walls, daring her to falter. She hated the hold he had on her, hated how easily he occupied her mind.

By the time her route ended, she slowed to a jog, her breaths coming in measured bursts. Her surroundings shifted, and she realized she had wandered farther than intended. Down the hill, nestled between a row of boutique shops, was a quaint coffee shop. Reese hesitated for a moment, then made her way toward it, the prospect of a warm drink enticing after the chill of the morning air.

The bell above the door jingled softly as she entered, the inviting aroma of pumpkin spice and cinnamon wrapping around her like a blanket. She adjusted her jacket and joined the short line, scanning the menu even though she already knew her order.

"What can I get for you?" the barista asked, her freckled face lighting up with a smile.

"I'll have a large cranberry vanilla wonderland," Reese said, her voice steady. "With one extra pump of vanilla."

"For here or to go?" the barista asked.

"To—"

"For here," came a low, husky voice from behind her.

Reese froze, the familiarity of the voice sending a shiver down her spine. She turned slowly, and there he was—Christian Grey. He sat at a small table in the corner, his sharp features softened slightly by the glow of the morning light filtering through the windows. A faint, knowing smile curved his lips.

"Ms. Sutherlin," he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair as if her presence were the most natural thing in the world.

Her breath caught, her grip tightening on her cup as she took him in. His tailored jacket hung perfectly over his broad shoulders, the color of charcoal accentuating his sharp jawline and piercing gaze. The sheer coincidence—or audacity—of him being here threw her off balance.

"Mr. Grey," she said finally, her voice even, though her heart was racing.

"What are the odds?" He gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Join me."

She hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to decline. But her curiosity—and the unshakable pull he seemed to have on her—rooted her in place. Against her better judgment, she approached his table and lowered herself into the seat.

The air between them felt charged, the weight of unsaid words filling the small space. She placed her cup on the table, her fingers curling around it as though it could anchor her.

"So," she began, keeping her tone measured, "what brings you to the area?"

"Business," he replied smoothly, lifting his cup to his lips. "Imagine my surprise when I saw you walk in."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Well, enjoy your coffee. I should—"

"Stay," he interrupted, his voice soft but insistent. "I thought we could finish our conversation from the other day."

Reese's eyes narrowed, her defenses rising instinctively. "Mr. Grey, unless this pertains to the villa, I don't see what there is to discuss."

"Are we really to be so formal now?" His tone was casual, but the sharpness in his eyes suggested otherwise.

"I think that's best," she said, lifting her cup to take a sip.

Christian leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. "And what if I don't?"

"Then it will make our working relationship difficult," she countered, her tone firm.

He studied her for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. "Have you forgotten that I know how you taste?"

Reese's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her cup. The memory his words evoked sent a wave of heat through her, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, unflinching.

"That's irrelevant," she said tightly. "As I mentioned the other day, I only wish to talk about the villa. If you're not interested in discussing that, I'll take my tea and go."

Christian exhaled softly, leaning back in his chair, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "Fine. Let's talk about the villa."

Reese pulled out her phone, diving into the details with practiced precision. As she spoke of its Mediterranean-inspired design, the spacious layout, and its stunning views, Christian listened intently. But his attention wasn't on the property. It was on her. His eyes didn't leave her face, and though his expression remained neutral, the weight of his scrutiny sent a thrill of awareness through her.

When she paused to sip her tea, he smiled faintly. "You're passionate about this place."

"It's a good property," she replied, her tone clipped.

He nodded. "I believe you."

She ignored the warmth that crept into her cheeks and steered the conversation back to logistics. "If you're genuinely interested, we can schedule a proper viewing. Otherwise, I'd appreciate it if you'd pass the details to someone who might be."

Christian's lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. "Consider it done. But I'd like to see it for myself first. Thoroughly."

Her pulse quickened at his emphasis, but she forced her expression to remain neutral. "Fine," she said after a moment. "Tomorrow works for me."

"Tomorrow," he echoed, his tone carrying a hint of satisfaction.

Reese stood, gathering her things and stepping away from the table. "I'll send you the details," she said curtly.

As she turned to leave, she felt his gaze follow her, the intensity of his presence lingering long after she stepped into the cold morning air.